


Merry Christmas!

by Selbel



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Athos POV, D'Artagnan builds a snow man, Lots of Laughs, Protective Athos, Snow, chapter 4 is mainly constance and D'art, christmas drabble, its really just Athos thinking about how much has changed in the past year, second chapter now added!, semi-hurt D'Artagnan, third chapter, with Athos giving out advice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selbel/pseuds/Selbel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its Christmas day and Athos is sitting alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not The Sad Man He Once Was

There was a certain vibe to the garrison this morning, excitement and happiness. The most hardhearted musketeers had small smirks on their faces and the lighter, younger musketeers were smiling and joking with each other. Christmas day brought out the best in people, but not Athos; no, for Athos was sitting alone and watching his three best friends. Porthos and Aramis were playing cards with a glass of red wine in their hands. Aramis caught his eye and nodded. Athos smiled at him before his attention caught D'Artagnan, who was sword fighting with the newest recruits in regiment.

They lacked technique that D'Artagnan had learned throughout the year but they showed dedication, considering they were training on Christmas day. Looking at D'Artagnan and how happy he looked, Athos struggled to remember the small, young D'Artagnan who made his way into the garrison all those many months ago. It had been almost a year, but Athos could vaguely remember. The rude and ill tempered boy had stormed in the garrison, not even bothering to keep his anger in check as he fought with all three of them. True, he lacked technique, but he was good, better than a novice ought to be. He had more guts than any person he had ever met as well. Not many people would challenge a musketeer, but here was the person whose insanity was driven by anger and it did him well. 

 

Looking at D'Artagnan smile happily as he won yet another round, he was truly astonished by how much the lad had changed. He was once so angry to the point where it was like walking on hot rocks around him, then he desperately tried to please everyone by overdoing it on missions, and more often than not, almost getting himself killed. But now, he looked like he had finally found his place. He was more at ease and was thankful to help other people harness their own skill. Athos noticed that the lad was smiling more as well without force. 

D'Artagnan wasn't the only one who changed. No, Athos had changed as well. When Athos first met D'Artagnan, he was driven by his cold heart that left no room for friendship, but the longer he spent with D'Artagnan the more he realized how much the people around him met to him. For this, Athos was more thankful than anyone could ever imagine. 

Looking at all three of his friends, his brothers, he felt proud. Proud of all they had become, proud of the fact that they survived another year together and proud that he, himself, had become a much better man than he used to be.


	2. Typical D'Artagnan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sky was cloudy, the ground was white and the weather was beyond freezing. So cold in fact that Athos' breath was visible. Even his younger companion, D'Artagnan, was being affected by the cold; this much was evident by the blue tinge around his lips and his pale complexion. It was a horrible, harsh day made worse by the fact that their horses had ran away from them, leaving them to walk in the freezing cold weather.

The sky was cloudy, the ground was white and the weather was beyond freezing. So cold in fact that Athos' breath was visible. Even his younger companion, D'Artagnan, was being affected by the cold; this much was evident by the blue tinge around his lips and his pale complexion. It was a horrible, harsh day made worse by the fact that their horses had ran away from them, leaving them to walk in the freezing cold weather. 

The day had started off on a simple mission; deliver messages to a lord to be invited to the Christmas feast two days hence. They delivered the messages quite quickly in fact, but it was on the way back to Paris that was difficult. Bandits attacked them, well they tried to anyway. There were about five of them, but they were quickly dealt with in record time. Its just their silly horses got frightened and ran away quite abruptly, thankfully both of them escaped injury. 

From living in Paris for so long, Athos was used to this weather and plus, he had once spent an entire night out in the snow after being injured on a mission and had been found the next morning relatively unscathed. It was D'Artagnan that Athos worried about. He was sure the lad had seen snow before and had felt the harsh wintry months, but not as bad as this he assumed. Gascony mainly rained with a little bit of snow making an appearance after Christmas. From the way that D'Artagnan kept shivering and blowing air onto his (ungloved) hands, he guessed the young man wasn't handling the cold too well at all. 

Slowing his pace so he was in step with D'Artagnan, Athos removed his cloak and held it out for D'Artagnan to take. He was wearing one as well, but it seemed that it was doing nothing to keep him warm. 

“Take it”, said Athos as he wrapped it around the younger man. 

“What about you?”

“I'm used to this weather. Come on, if we're lucky, we'll be back at the garrison by morning” 

“Fingers crossed” 

The two remained quiet after that, with D'Artagnan wrapping the two cloaks tightly around his lithe frame, Athos remained at the lads side, eyebrows knitted together. Athos' worry increased every-time D'Artagnan shivered or sniffled and he found his hand on the lad's upper arm, leading the way. It didn't help his worry that he noticed the lad was looking alarmingly pale. 

The sky was now turning a dark grey and Athos was nervous. D'Artagnan looked ill. He was shivering more than ever and his teeth were chattering together as his face was as pale as the snow around him. Perhaps making an unwise decision, Athos pulled the lad down and put his back against the tree so he could rest. 

“M'fine Athos”, mumbled a lethargic D'Artagnan before Athos could even say anything. 

Frowning, Athos deduced that the lads' behavior was not just to to the weather and he made a move to check D'Artagnan over for any injuries when he heard the unmistakeable sound of horses and voices. Feeling as if a bucket of ice-water had been thrown over his head, Athos stood and unsheathed his rapier as quickly as he could. He kicked D'Artagnan awake from his daze though that did not do much good. 

Athos held his breath and tried to listen. He could hear nothing. He shook it off as his nerves getting the better of him; it was late and he was on edge. That's all. He turned around to sit next to D'Artagnan when he walked into something...someone. Someone familiar. 

“Porthos! Aramis!”, exclaimed a very happy Athos. “It's good to see you!”

“I'll bet”, stated Aramis as he bent down next to a barely conscious D'Artagnan. “What happened to him?” 

“No idea. At first I thought he was just cold, but now I'm not so sure” 

“What's that on his arm?”, Porthos pointed out, moving one of the two cloaks to reveal a deep cut on the Gascon's upper arm. 

Realization that D'Artagnan got hurt during the attack from the bandits struck Athos like a ton of bricks. Guilt wormed its way into the pit of his stomach. How did he not notice D'Artagnan being injured? How had he not noticed the blood? 

“He's lost a lot of blood.”, stated Aramis as he tied up the wound as tightly as possible, earning a quiet grunt from the lad. “I'm glad we found you when we did. We have to get back to the garrison now” 

“Yea, and then 'ya can tell us what 'appened”, Porthos said to Athos. 

They mounted their horses, with D'Artagnan riding with Aramis and Athos with Porthos and rode as fast as they could.

The sky was black by the time they reached the garrison and the four men were shivering ferociously by the time they reached the court-yard. They went to work straight away. With Treville and other musketeers running forward to help in any way that they could. They couldn't help, but it was a nice gesture nonetheless. Athos and Porthos carried the lad to his quarters whilst Aramis ran off to fetch his sewing kit. 

Once D'Artagnan was settled in bed was when he started to become aware of his surroundings. Unfortunately, he woke when Aramis was stitching his wound and Athos quickly rushed to hold him down as he startled. D'Artagnan's eyes went wide as a curse played out on his lips before he realized that he was in bed and he contently settled back on the pillows. 

“I'm sorry”, said D'Artagnan in a croaky voice. 

Athos frowned, “You have nothing to be sorry about, D'Artagnan” 

“I should have told you that I was hurt” 

“yes, you should have. But it doesn't matter now, just get some rest:

D'Artagnan didn't argue, instead he accepted the cup of wine from Porthos and drank it as though he had never drunk anything in his entire life. 

“That ought to bring some color to yer cheeks”, said Porthos as he re-filled the cup. The lad drank it just as greedily as the first. 

 

When an hour had gone passed, and all the wine had gone was when Porthos and Aramis left, bidding goodnight to Athos who was being lulled asleep by the crisp heat of the fire place. D'Artagnan had fallen asleep half-hour ago and looked peaceful in his sleep. Athos himself was exhausted and wanted to sleep, but every-time he closed his eyes he thought about what would have happened if Aramis and Porthos didn't come. Athos shook his head. He couldn't think like that now, not when everything had turned out okay. 

The next morning saw Athos waking up late morning whilst Aramis and Porthos fussed over a tired looking D'Artagnan. Athos inspected him for a moment; he was still pale (though not as pale as he was) and he looked tired, but other than that, he looked okay.

“About time you woke up”, said D'Artagnan with a smile that reached his eyes. “Porthos and Aramis are being a bit too protective. Help?” 

Athos smiled. “Maybe you shouldn't get yourself injured and they won't fuss” 

“Your meant to be on my side!”

“Please, Athos is always on my side”, said Aramis happily and Porthos' loud laugh boomed around the room. 

“We know Athos will always take my side”

Athos rolled his eyes. His friends acted like five year old children. 

/ 

D'Artagnan mostly slept that day and Athos never left his side. Treville visited the lads quarters to see his improvement and to get a detailed description of what had transpired yesterday. Athos gladly told him what happened, with the knowledge that everything had turned out okay. 

D'Artagnan slept on and off throughout the day, waking up only to eat and drink something. He was truly taking advantage of the fact that he had a day off before having to guard the king and queen tomorrow at the Christmas feast. Athos couldn't blame him, he was also taking advantage of his day off. 

Around midnight, D'Artagnan rolled over in his sleep and mumbled “Merry Christmas”, before he fell back asleep. Perplexed, Athos sat forward, frowned and then laughed. Typical D'Artagnan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have gotten this up earlier in the day, but I've been watching the news all day. Sorry guys. Also, if there is a Christmas prompt you want written let me know and I'll write it for you :)


	3. Snow-Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'Artagnan tries to build a snow-man, much to the amusement of his friends.

“D'Artagnan, that is not nearly good enough”, the Captain reprimanded with a frown on his face. He was deeply ashamed. 

D'Artagnan looked up from his project with an anguish look on his face “it would be better but they are no help whatsoever” 

“Now, now, its not fair to blame us”, Porthos stated with a smile as his hand 'slipped' and he ended up dropping snow to the ground. 

D'Artagnan cursed under his breath whilst Aramis and Athos laughed. It had been going on for a while now. Every time D'Artagnan thought he was getting somewhere, one of the musketeers would mess it up for the lad. It was all harmless fun of course, but now the Gascon's fiery temper could be seen through his usual facade. 

“Control that temper, aye?”, said Porthos, almost condescendingly and D'Artagnan bit his tongue to keep quiet. 

He would not get angry or frustrated, nor would he give in to what the others wanted: to get him angry. The task he was doing was easy enough, well it would be if his bloody friends would stop distracting him or ruining his “masterpiece”. Captain Treville was watching. He couldn't afford any mistakes, especially since he was the youngest musketeer in the regiment. Even little mistakes would cost him. 

“D'Artagnan, it looks a bit small”, Treville chided from the balcony, “make it a bit bigger. Something the kids will notice”

D'Artagnan bit his bottom lip and tried not to hate kids. After all, it was tradition that children of Paris visit the garrison on Christmas eve night and talk to the musketeers. It was a good tradition, D'Artagnan could admit that. It brought hope to children's eyes and made them trust and respect the musketeers. The only problem with children visiting the garrison is, well, the decorating of course. 

Musketeers of all age and sizes had been running around all day trying to make the place as child friendly as possible. Some musketeers had been putting candles on the balcony as decoration whilst most of them helped with the tree and other Christmas decorations. But D'Artagnan, poor D'Artagnan had been put with the worst job: making a snow man. Not just any snow man, according to Treville and his three friends, but the most spectacular snow man of all. It had to be big, it had to be round, it had to have a nose and a coat and a hat. Every time D'Artagnan got it close to the way everyone was instructing him to do it, one of them would “accidentally” ruin it. Whether it be Treville dropping his cup on it, or Porthos hitting it with his hand. Really, it was getting on the lads nerves. Which is why when he finally finished it, he stood up proudly and stated the no one was allowed to go near the snow man until the kids came. He even went as far as to block off the area, much to Athos' disappointment. 

“It's going to get ruined eventually”, stated Athos as he made a move to touch up the snow-mans hat, only stopping when D'Artagnan grabbed his hand. 

“Athos”, said D'Artagnan, “you are my brother and mentor, but if you touch this snow-man I will not be held responsible for my actions”.

Athos backed off, so did Aramis and Porthos, who actually looked a little frightened of the worn out Gascon lad. They really did a number on him. Athos even thought of apologizing to the lad, only to be stopped by about fifty children – all from four to eight – entering the garrison and running around like mad men. 

D'Artagnan made a small whimpering noise which broke Athos out of his reverie. He realized with wide eyes that someone, no, a reckless child, had ruined the snow-man. Athos tried not to laugh, he really did, but it was a futile effort. 

Treville's laugh could be heard from across the yard, which then set off Aramis, Porthos and Athos, all of whom were laughing so hard they had tears to their eyes. D'Artagnan looked from the snow-man, to his friends, and laughed as well, almost hysterically. All his hard work had been for nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote something a little lighter than my previous chapters. Also, I have no idea how hard it is to make a snow-man as I live in Australia and it is constantly hot. Hope you guys enjoyed! <3


	4. A Christmas Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, D'Artagnan is very surprised.

Life was going good. The past six months had been….well, they had been amazing. D’Artagnan and Constance were stronger than ever; D’Artagnan and the three musketeers were still inseparable. After that ordeal with Rochefort, everyone realised what they had to cherish in life. For D’Artagnan, he had to cherish his wife and brothers.

His brothers were amazing, they were always there for him when things got rough, and not to mention when D’Artagnan and Constance had a fight after a month of being married…well, let’s just say that the boys were there to slap some sense into the young man and tell him to “man up and apologize to her”. Yes. D’Artagnan’s brothers were amazing, but there was one more person who D’Artagnan loved more than anyone in the entire world. Constance.

Constance had been there for him since the first day he arrived in Paris. She was stern when she needed to be, and lovely and kind when D’Artagnan needed her to be. One of the things that D’Artagnan loved about her was the fact that she was always there for him at the end of a bad day, or when he woke up in a terrified state in the middle of the night she would always be there for him.

Now that it was Christmas D’Artagnan wanted to do something nice for the ones he loved, but well, it didn’t exactly quite work out. One night, when he came home after an extremely long day guarding the silly Christmas festival at the palace, he walked in to find a surprise. Constance was sitting at the table, her head in her hands and crying.

Without thinking, he grabbed her in a hug, “What’s wrong?” he asked breathlessly.

Constance did something very strange indeed and started laughing, “nothing bad”  
  
“why are you crying then?”

“Oh D’Artagnan”, Constance said, “I’m so happy. You see, I’m with child. Your child, at last!”

Shit! D’Artagnan immediately let her go and fell to the floor in shock, his mouth open and his eyes frightfully wide. D’Artagnan! A Father!  He didn’t expect it so soon after marriage, especially after Constance told him of her difficulties conceiving. She had gone many years without falling pregnant and now, after six months she was with child. D’Artagnan’s child!

“D’Artagnan?” Constance asked quietly, “are you okay?”

“Yes! Sorry, I just had a long day that’s all. I’m very, _very_ happy”

Constance’s smile grew and soon she was smiling from ear to ear, her hand on her stomach. D’Artagnan grabbed her in a tight hug, still not being able to believe that soon there would be a little him or little Constance running around the house. But still, at the back of his mind, there was a voice telling him that he wasn’t going to be a good father. As the hours passed that night, he stayed awake, believing that voice more and more until eventually it was screaming at him.

/

The next morning, he left before Constance woke up. He couldn’t face her with these feelings he was having. He felt like a coward. Last night, he thought about running away, then he felt guilty straight away and thought about this child….what if it didn’t like D’Artagnan? What if it grew up and resented him? What if he wasn’t a good father?

Lost in thought, he walked straight into Athos. Athos gripped his shoulder and waited until D’Artagnan had stopped stumbling before raising his eyebrows in questioning.

Without even thinking, D’Artagnan blurted out “Constancesispregnant”

“Perhaps say that a bit slower”

D’Artagnan took a deep breath, “I’m going to be a father”

Athos smiled but didn’t congratulate him, “Is that not a good thing?”, the older man asked, not unkindly.

“It is, I swear it is but I don’t know Athos…I”. D’Artagnan made a motion with his hands.

“Ahh”, was all Athos said before he led D’Artagnan to his office and made him sit down on the opposing chair.

Bread and cheese was laid out in front of D’Artagnan, as well as a glass of water. He nibbled, but he could not eat much for the lump in his throat. It didn’t help that Athos was watching him like a hawk.

“I know”, D’Artagnan eventually said, pushing away the food. “I am a coward”

“Why would you say that?”

“I left without saying anything to my wife the morning after she told me she was with child”

“She will understand that you have responsibilities here at the garrison”

“Athos, last night I thought about leaving her and the child. What man would think that?”

Athos sighed lightly. “A nervous man would think that”

“Gah! That is no excuse. If I am thinking like this now, what kind of father would I be?”

It was silent for a minute, D’Artagnans breathing fast and loud. He couldn’t believe the thoughts that were running through his mind. He would be a horrible father.

“Do you remember the night before you wed Constance?”

D’Artagnan lifted his head, “Of course I do. Once again I was a coward”

“No, D’Artagnan”, Athos sat down next to the younger man, “you were nervous. You acted like every other man I know”

“I was going to run away”

“But you didn’t! You see D’Artagnan, you are not a coward but a nervous man. We all think stupidly when we are nervous, but the important thing is to brave through it. It will work out in the end”

“You don’t know that”, said D’Artagnan stubbornly.

“No, I do not. But I do know you, D’Artagnan and you are one of the bravest men I know. I have seen you climb a tree to rescue a cat, I have seen you run into a burning building just to help a friend. No matter what you think D’Artagnan, you are no coward. Scared, but not a coward and in the end you will do what is right, just like you always have.”

/

After the talk with Athos, D’Artagnan felt a little bit better. He still had the unwanted thoughts running through his head, but there was another voice now, one saying that he could be a good father. He really hoped so, too, because there would be nothing worse than being a failure of a dad.

When he got home to find Constance cooking he walked swiftly over to her and wrapped his arms around her stomach.

“Sorry”, D’Artagnan blurted out.

“What for?”

“For not saying goodbye this morning”, he quickly lied. He didn’t think telling her the truth about how he felt was a good thing, especially because he no longer felt that way. D’Artagnan now knew he could be a good father; it would be difficult, yes, but he could do it. He would be there for his child just as his dad was for him.

Even though it was a bit of surprise at first, D’Artagnan was now very happy at the fact that he was going to be a father. He was also excited at the prospect of telling his brothers at the Christmas dinner at the Garrison the next night.

It was weird to think that next Christmas he was going to be a father, but it was also very exciting.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. I kind of realized how close it was to Christmas and I really wanted to continue on with these oneshot's. I would really like to write more, so if you have any prompts leave them in the comments and I'll write them! Thank you for reading :)


	5. Finding the Christmas Joy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Aramis and D'Artagnan are sent on a brief mission on Christmas Day, things don't go to plan.

_It probably couldn’t get worse_ , D’Artagnan thought to himself as he heaved an unconscious Aramis on his shoulder. It was freezing, snowing and heavy wind kept knocking D’Artagnan to the side. But surely, things could not get worse? After being attacked by bandits, getting injured and then having to heave his unconscious brother back to the garrison, surely, nothing could get worse.

Except maybe for the fact that the wound on his side kept bleeding even though he wrapped it up tightly with his cloak as best he could. And Aramis still hadn’t shown any sign of consciousness for an hour now.

This was not how D’Artagnan wanted to spend his Christmas. Instead, he wanted to stay at the garrison with his brothers and wife, drinking delicious wine and enjoying his day off as he was promised. Of course, being a Musketeer, he never really had time off and he and Aramis were sent off to deliver a message just three hours out of Paris. If things had gone smoothly, D’Artagnan and his brother would have been back in time for dinner and the celebrations, but of course, things never panned out simply. Bandits took advantage of the Christmas cheer and attacked.

Being Musketeers on a mission they did not have much, a few gold coins and a jug filled with water. The bandits didn’t like that and decided to attack. There were about ten of them all together, and D’Artagnan and Aramis fought five off before the sheer numbers of their opponents overwhelmed them and they were forced to retreat without their horses. Aramis had gotten a harsh knock on his head rendering him unconscious and D’Artagnan was bruised and bleeding.

If there was any consolation about this, it was knowing that Athos and Porthos would come looking for them if they didn’t make it back in time for dinner. Dinner time was rapidly approaching, thankfully. 

Breathless, D’Artagnan laid Aramis against a tree and checked for signs of any other injury; luckily, the older man had none, but a few bruises. It was the head injury that had D’Artagnan worried about. Aramis had taught him a few things when he first became a Musketeer and he always said head injuries were one of the worst injuries to sustain, if only for the fact that they were unpredictable. D’Artagnan’s stomach was doing flips. What if the man didn’t wake up?

Holding back tears of frustration and with trembling hands, D’Artagnan wrapped the remainder of his cloak around the unconscious man. He had to make sure the man didn’t freeze to death. When he was sure Aramis was warm, he re-did his own bandage, taking note of how the bleeding was finally slowing down.

Exhaustion weighed heavily upon the younger man and he found himself lying down next to Aramis, his eyes closing of their own accord.  “ _A five minute nap”_ , he thought to himself before he dozed off. He wasn’t warm, nor was he comfy, but he was tired.  

/

He dreamt of an unconscious Aramis, laying on the ground and bleeding. The man was pale and unmoving. D’Artagnan tried to run to him, but for some reason he couldn’t move. His legs wouldn’t do what his brain was telling them to do.

_Aramis…_ He called, but the man didn’t respond. _Aramis…_ D’Artagnan yelled again much to the same results. _ARAMIS_ …he yelled.

_I’m here…_ a voice that sounded like Aramis said, but that couldn’t be right. Aramis was lying unconscious on the ground! _It’s okay_

As though hit by lightning, D’Artagnan woke up and made a move to sit up, only to be prevented by a firm hand on his chest.

“Aramis!”, D’Artagnan exclaimed

The other man smiled kindly, but D’Artagnan noticed the wince. He also noted how pale the man looked and the huge bags under his eyes.

“Aramis, you should be resting”, D’Artagnan stated firmly, “we’ll carry on in a bit”

Aramis shook his head, “It’s you who needs rest, lad. Also, I don’t think there is any point in attempting to walk now. The others will have already sent out a search party”

“…I hope they find us soon”

“Me too, dear Gascon, but for now, you musn't move too much. That wound of yours will need stitching but too much movement will agrivate it further”

“Well, you shouldn’t be moving much either, Aramis”, D’Artagnan said rather bossily.

“I’m fine”

“Please Aramis, stop pretending. I see that you are in pain”

Something like indignation showed in Aramis’ eyes before pain finally took over and he sagged next to D’Artagnan. Both men thankful for the heat that the other leant.

“Well”, Aramis said, “Merry Christmas”

But D’Artagnan didn’t reply, as he had drifted off into another fitful sleep.

D’Artagnan didn’t know how long he and Aramis were waiting, it felt like a life time. Both of them were huddled up against each other, dozing on and off whilst their bodies shook. The wind had died down a lot since the afternoon, but still, the snow fell. It was freezing.

They were buried under a pile of snow before the others found them. By then, both of them were half-frozen to death. 

The only thing that D’Artagnan was aware of was being separated from Aramis and he made a sound of discomfort at the loss of the little warmth Aramis gave. 

“Hush”, a familiar voice said in his ear, “you will get warm soon enough”

Perhaps an hour passed, or five. D’Artagnan wasn’t sure. He passed out again, falling against something very warm.

When he came to, he became aware of how much his body was trembling. He couldn’t stop it. He was shaking so much that to anyone else it would have looked like he was having a fit. He was leaning against someone very warm and had blankets wrapped around him, but still, the shaking did not cease.

“Just relax”, the familiar voice said.

“Aramis?” he questioned.

“Will be okay”

He couldn’t say anything back as sleep engulfed him once more.

The next time he woke up it was to realize how warm and comfortable he was. His side ached a little, but the pain was nothing to him. He was just thankful that the shivering had stopped.

D’Artagnan hadn’t opened his eyes but someone must have sensed that he was awake and made him drink some warm broth. His throat was a bit sore from the cold, but once the broth glided down his throat it soothed it a little.

“Thanks”, D’Artagnan whispered.

“No problem”, came the voice of Athos, “now rest up”

D’Artagnan did just that, being lulled to sleep as Athos continued to push his hair back rhythmically.

The next day he became aware of the pain in his side every time he tried to move, but D’Artagnan liked to count his lucky blessings that he and Aramis were still alive. D’Artagnan had walked to Aramis’ rooms – albeit a bit slow – with Athos in tow, only to find that the older man was sitting at the small, round table, playing cards with Porthos. The man still looked a little pale, and he had bags under his eyes, but he looked significantly better than he had freezing in the woods.

“Ahh, I was wondering when you were going to get your lazy arse out of bed”, said Porthos with a smile on his face.

D’Artagnan allowed himself a small smile, “I was trying to ignore you Porthos, but it seems that my plan didn’t work”

“Cheeky little bugga!”

Aramis flinched at Porthos’ loud voice. “Sorry Aramis”, said the big man sheepishly, only to be rewarded with a pat on the back from Aramis.

“All is well, friend, now D’Artagnan sit down before you aggravate that wound of yours. Athos, make us tea”

Athos rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath, but D’Artagnan, feeling much lighter than he had in the woods, sat down next to Aramis.

“I was worried about you”, admitted D’Artagnan.

“Same goes for me”

D’Artagnan drew in a shaky breath, unable to say more on the matter. All he could see in his mind was Aramis laying there in his dream, whilst he was unable to do anything but scream for him to wake up.

D’Artagnan was shaken out of his reverie when Athos placed a mug of hot tea in front of him.

“What a Christmas its been aye?”, said Porthos quite happily, as he placed his cards down on the table with a smile. “Once again, Aramis, the master outweighs the student”

Aramis chuckled and placed his cards down on the table, “on the contrary, it seems the student has surpassed the master. And I, for one, am still in the Christmas spirit and could go for a nice Christmas drink, preferably the most expensive bottle of wine”

Athos snorted, “with what money?”

“Perhaps a heavily diluted bottle of wine, then, but nonetheless, I propose we go for a Christmas drink later!”

No one wanted to argue that, after all, they still wanted to celebrate Christmas, even though the actual day wasn’t the best.

That was how the Four Musketeers found themselves later that night. Sharing a bottle of wine in their favorite place, at their favorite table, just talking among themselves and enjoying what little Christmas spirit was still there.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> With three day's until Christmas, I'm going to try and write a few more of these oneshot's. The only thing is that I'm running out of idea's, so if you have a prompt let me know and I'll write it :D

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on another fic but I had massive writers block so I wrote this drabble. Not the greatest but I wanted to contribute to the Christmas fics :) More christmas drabbles to come!


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